


It's All Aces

by masked



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Demisexual Castiel, Forced Confession (kinda), Human Castiel, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mind Control, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, Sirens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 11:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3727105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masked/pseuds/masked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel finds out a little bit about himself, Dean finds out a lot about Castiel, and everyone finds out how educated sirens are on different types of sexualities (after all, their survival <i>does</i> kind of depend on it).</p><p>post s8 finale canon divergence fic where Sam is healthy and Cas had joined them right after he fell</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's All Aces

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [ace!Cas day](http://asexual-supernatural.tumblr.com/post/113887614233/on-saturday-april-11th-there-will-be-the) over on tumblr. Consider this as my declaration that I have, and always will, write Cas as demisexual.

Castiel is sure he’s the one; they’ve been hunting this siren for the past two days, and he’s tired and exhausted and just wants to go back to the bunker and rest.

He texts Dean and Sam the location of the siren while he keeps his eyes glued to the thing. He sips his drink and grimaces. Alcohol tasted much less like… _alcohol_ when he was an angel.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” a woman slides beside him. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Castiel gives her a glance and back to their target. “No, thank you.”

“Aw, don’t be such a stiffy,” she says smoothly. “Though, I hope by the end of the night  _someone_  will be a little of that, if you get what I mean.”

Castiel frowns at this (he really doesn’t have time for this right now), and glances at her again. She smirks and tucks a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear, and leans a little lower to display herself better. She’s a very attractive woman.

“I’m a little occupied at the moment, but thank you for your interest,” he replies evenly.

The siren texts something from his phone then, and to Castiel’s surprise, heads for the exit without claiming anyone.  _He’s on the move_ , Castiel texts to Dean, who’s been staying closest to the siren while seemingly and effortlessly mingling with the locals. He soon watches as Dean casually says his farewells and tails after him.  

He needs to go,  _now_.

He gets up from his seat, only for the woman to grip a hand around his forearm. “Wait,” she says.

He glances down at the hand that grips around his forearm and he tries to shrug her off, but she’s surprisingly strong. “Let me go,” Castiel tells her.

She looks up through her eyelashes with a slightly faltering smile. She offers him a glass of martini. “Then at least a farewell drink? You’d make this girl’s night.”

Frustrated and impatient at her insistence and recognizing human stubbornness when he sees one, Castiel takes a gulp from the martini. Only then does she loosen her grip around him, and Castiel hurriedly follows after them.

“You have a good night now,” the woman’s voice calls after him.  

Castiel scoffs.

 

* * *

 

“The hell took you so long?” Dean asks when Castiel joins them in the Impala. The car roars to life and drives towards the motel the siren is at according to Sam.

“I was occupied,” Castiel grits.

“With what?”

“Some woman kept trying to talk to me and—” he waves it aside. “It’s not important.”

“Someone hit on you?” Sam asks, his eyebrows raised high to his forehead. Castiel glares at him for not dropping the subject, and Sam tries to hide his smile. “Sorry, I’ll stop.”

Dean glances between them. “That true?”

“Yes.”

Dean glances at Sam again, and grins. “Ain’t you a big boy now, huh? Getting all the ladies left and right.”

Castiel tries to be not too disappointed at the lack of jealousy from Dean. “I’m eons older than you, Dean,” he replies dryly as he gets out of the car and looks around for the siren.

“That’s not—” Dean’s lips thin, and shrugs. “Nevermind. Anyway, what now? We need the vic’s blood on the knife to kill this thing, and there  _is_  no vic right now.”

A taxi pulls into the parking lot just as Dean says this, and a woman with dirty blonde hair gets out of the taxi and glances around. She checks her phone and smiles, texts something, and walks towards the room the siren is in.

“Might want to take that back,” Sam mutters, and they all get into action.

They barge into the room after her and she screams as Sam grabs hold of her, while the siren who’s sitting at the foot of the bed stands up in alert.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Dean apologizes as he takes her palm against her kicking and screaming. “Hey, I’m trying to  _help_  you—”

Castiel jumps to hold the woman steady with Sam and help Dean. The woman screams, “ _Castiel,_ stop them!”

All of them freeze momentarily from surprise at this sudden turn of event.

“How do you know my name?” Castiel demands.

The woman turns to him in shocked confusion, and from the corner of his eyes, he sees her true reflection on the motel mirror. His stomach twists at the grotesque sight.

“ _Dean—_ ” he tries to warn, but the woman—another siren—elbows Dean in the face and Sam in the stomach, and joins the original siren they’ve been chasing on the other side of the room.

“Why isn’t he listening to you?” the original siren demands furiously, glancing at Castiel. “You sure he’s yours?”

“He has to be! I gave him my drink,” she replies, and realization dawns on Castiel.

“You’re the woman from the bar,” Castiel says.

“Castiel, slice Dean and Sam’s throats!” she tries again.

Castiel stares back blankly.

“Maybe you got his type wrong?” he hears the original siren say as he motions Dean for the bronze knife in his hand. Given that he’s already infected, he doesn’t have to worry about them squirting toxin into his mouth like Dean and Sam do.

Dean glances at Sam in hesitation, who looks equally perplexed about the situation. Castiel doesn’t really understand why it didn’t affect him either, but they can speculate about that later. “Dean,  _now_ ,” he says urgently, holding his hand out.

“I didn’t get it  _wrong,_ we can’t ever  _get_ it wrong! He’s into dirty blondes, green eyes—”

He feels both Sam and Dean’s eyes jump to Castiel’s in surprise, and Castiel looks away with a flush across his face. It seems the sooner those things are dead, the better. 

“— _oh,”_ the siren says suddenly, and straightens where she stands. “He’s  _asexual_.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’d explains it,” the other siren sighs. “Damn it, man. You  _had_  to pick the asexual one out of the group.”

“Hey, how was I supposed to know?” 

Casiel winces in pain as he slices his palm open, making sure to coat the knife with his blood evenly.

“Asexual?” Sam repeats in confusion, and glances between the sirens and Castiel. “Wha—”

“Maybe he’s demi though,” the other siren continues. “Give that a shot, huh?”

That seems to mean something to the siren, for she nods and squints at Castiel before she morphs into—

Dean.

Dean and Sam blink at the siren’s appearance, and Castiel feels a sickening lurch in his stomach. He throws the bronze knife at the original siren, who screams one last cry as it hits him squarely on the chest, and topples to the floor.

He rushes over to pull the knife out of his chest when the siren demands with Dean’s voice, “Castiel, stop.”

Castiel stops.

He hears frantic cries in the distance—the entire world feels hazy as Dean’s voice cuts through it to say, “Castiel, kill these guys for me.”

He looks at Sam and the one that looks like Dean, who both look equally sick and shocked by whatever they see. Something at the back of his mind wants to ask why Dean would want Sam dead. He hesitates. He cares about Dean, but he cares great deal about Sam as well.

“Castiel, please,” Dean’s voice says against his ear. He feels a warm hand against his shoulder, and he wants to melt against the touch. “It’d mean the world to me, and these guys are trying to separate us.”

Castiel shudders a little as Dean’s voice travels through his veins and settles in his stomach. Dean’s entrusted the task onto Castiel for some reason, so Castiel will do it. Whatever to make him happy.

He pulls the knife out of the dead siren’s chest and circles them, waiting for a chance to strike.

“Cas, snap out of it!” the one that looks like Dean yells.

“Cas, you can fight this!” Sam yells frantically. “You’ve done it before, right?”

“Shut up,” Castiel mutters back. They don’t show any opening and they don’t seem to want to approach him first. It’s two against one, but Castiel’s spent most of his life fighting in close combat with a sword. He’s confident that he can take both of them out.

Castiel doesn’t notice the glance shared between them as he swipes for Sam’s neck, who ducks with a grunt and kicks Castiel’s shin, causing him to lose his balance. Suddenly there are arms wrapping under and around his arms from behind, and Castiel struggles and tries to stab whoever it is. The grip tightens _hard_ , and Castiel yelps in pain. The pause is all the time it takes for Sam to snatch the knife away from his hand.

“No!” Dean yells from the back, and the devastation he hears in his voice crushes Castiel. “Castiel, rip his throat out, fight him off,  _do something_!”

Castiel tries to turn towards the one holding him, but the grip is stronger than he is. “Easy there, tiger,” the voice says, who sounds suspiciously like Dean, which confuses Castiel.

“Dean?” he asks. His brain feels muddled up. 

“Hold on,” he replies, and Castiel complies. 

“Castiel,  _no_!” Dean snaps from behind them, and Castiel stiffens at the urgency and fear he feels from Dean. “Don’t let them—”

“Sorry, Cas,” Sam mutters as he slices through his uninjured palm.

“No,” Castiel says weakly, and resists. “Dean,  _no—_ ”

“Shh,” Dean’s voice says in his ear. “I’m right here, Cas.”

“ _No_!” he hears Dean yell, then a scream that pierces through Castiel’s entire being.

“Dean—” Castiel struggles against the hold, and blinks away hot tears at the thought of Dean dying, leaving him behind, having to live without him. “ _Dean—_ ”

Castiel blinks.

Everything comes crashing back.

Then a surge of complete and utter embarrassment washes over him.

Castiel squeezes his eyes shut and silently curses the siren to hell and back. “Please let me go,” he tells Dean quietly, so he can crawl into a hole now, please.  

Dean seems to hesitate, though the grip lessens a little. “You back now?”

“Yes.”

“It’s dead,” Sam confirms. “Cas is telling the truth.”

The arms slip away then, and nobody says a word as they both pointedly don’t look at Castiel. Sam pretends to check the other body for a pulse even though they all know it’s been long dead, and Dean clears his throat. Castiel wordlessly wipes the stupid tears off his face.

They clean up the corpses, and drives back home in silence that makes Castiel feel like he’s sitting on top of a needle cushion. From the look on Dean and Sam’s faces, they feel the exact same.

Castiel wishes he could stab those sirens again.

 

* * *

 

He practically runs to his room as soon as they arrive at the bunker. He thinks he’s even being blessedly left alone until few hours later when a knock comes at his door, presumably Sam.

Castiel unburies his face from his pillow. “Sam, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Silence follows after, and Castiel pricks his ears for footsteps when Dean’s voice startles him with, “Can I come in?”

Castiel shoots out of the bed and stands in front of the door. Perhaps Dean’s here to kick him out of the bunker now that he knows about Castiel’s…

“Cas?” Dean calls again, and Castiel snaps out of it.

“Am I being kicked out?” Castiel asks frankly. 

“What?  _No_ , I—” Dean pauses, and Castiel holds his breath. “Look, just let me in, alright? I just want to talk.”

Castiel hesitantly opens the door. Dean walks past him into the room and stands in front of him. Castiel holds the door open, but Dean motions for him to close it, so he does.

“So, uh,” Dean isn’t looking at him. “Sam and I looked up that asexuality thing the siren mentioned. You know, for future reference in case we need to go against them again.”

Castiel listens stiffly.

“Apparently it means like, if you’re asexual you lack sexual attraction to everyone or something? Explains why you were immune to their spell.”

“Not the whole time,” Castiel mutters. 

“Right. So that was the demi bit they mentioned—apparently asexuality is a spectrum, you know, like the colour spectrum, and demisexuality is part of that.”

“Meaning?”

Dean looks up at Castiel then, and Castiel prepares himself for whatever is about to come. He’s gone against Lucifer once in his life, so surely he can go through with whatever confrontation this is supposed to be.

This thought dwindles more the longer Dean stares at him. Castiel doesn’t hurry him, as this might grant him at least a little more time with Dean before he’s asked to leave or disappear out of Dean’s life or whatever Dean might ask of him.

“Meaning,” Dean says softly, “you’re not sexually attracted to someone unless you have an intense emotional bond with them. Apparently this bond thing can be romantic or platonic though, so we think it would’ve had the same effect on you if it turned into Sam, or anyone else you’re close with.” 

Ah. Dean is offering him an out here, giving Castiel a way to explain himself which will let everything go back to the way it used to be, and they will probably never mention this again. It stings, but a bigger part of Castiel doesn’t want this to put a dent between him and Dean either.

“I see,” Castiel says with a nod, relaxing. “I understand now why the siren might’ve wanted to take advantage of my emotional bonds towards you and Sam. Thank you for—”

“So which one was it for me?” 

He starts. “What?” 

“You heard me.”

“I don’t—” Castiel fumbles. What answer is he expecting from him?

Dean shakes his head slightly. “It’s a simple question, man. One or the other.”

And suddenly, as Dean steadily looks at him, he’s struck with the understanding that Dean knows. Dean  _knows_ , and he feels more wrath towards the sirens than he did few hours ago. Castiel was confident in his abilities to never let Dean know about these—these  _feelings,_ but he did think about what it’d be like to tell him about it, what it’d be like if Dean loves him back the way he loves him. They’ve robbed him of the opportunity to ever let him tell him about it himself, instead outed in such a way that he never wanted Dean to find out without Castiel’s permission.

He finds himself crying out of frustration, and soon he hears Dean say, “ _Whoa_ , what the—Cas, what’s—”

“I love you,” Castiel chokes out angrily, because damn it they may have robbed him of it and they may never know what that means for him, but at the very least he can try to have some control over how this will go. “I’m in love with you, and I thought—I didn’t want—”

And Dean’s hands are cupping Castiel’s face, and Castiel does nothing but follow as they lift him up to meet Dean’s eyes. “When were you going to tell me?” Dean asks.

“Never,” Castiel chokes out.

Dean’s jaw clenches, and Castiel’s eyes track the movement. “Cas, you stupid son of a bitch.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Castiel replies. More tears. “I’ll leave if you want, I’ll never bother you if that’s what you wish—”

“ _No_ , I mean—” Dean grunts frustratingly, and wipes his tears away. Castiel blinks at such an intimate gesture. “I—me too, you fucking idiot.”

Castiel blinks again. What? “What?”

Dean looks nervous, vulnerable, and thousands of other synonyms Castiel can think of. “I. Love you too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Dean hasn’t let go of his face yet. “I can’t believe it took us some weird ass monster from the Greek mythos turning into me for us to sort this shit out but—and I wasn’t going to—I mean—”

Castiel thoughtlessly lifts up his arm and gingerly touches Dean’s cheek. Dean starts, but stills against Castiel’s touch. “You love me,” Castiel repeats.

Dean’s distraught shoulders slump down. “Yeah.”

The warmth from Dean’s face radiates into Castiel’s palm. “You _love_ me.”

Dean’s expression softens. “Yeah.”

“And you’re okay… with me loving you.”

Dean nods, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps under Castiel’s disbelieving eyes. Castiel leans towards him a little, and Dean takes the cue and follows.

Kissing Dean is simultaneously everything and nothing like what Castiel’s imagined. Castiel clings to it like a dream he’s chasing after waking up, expecting this one to end just as abruptly, except it doesn’t. Dean’s hands run down his back and Castiel’s arms are around his toned torso, and they’re wrapped around each other in ways Castiel didn’t even dare to dream about. Heat surges within him, and they’re both slightly panting when they break apart.

“That was…”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees and kisses him again, and Castiel is giddy and excited in ways he didn’t even think would ever be possible two minutes ago.

Later, when he lays beside Dean sleeping in his bed, both of them wrung out and arms tangled around each other, he wonders if he should be thankful of the sirens and rids of the thought. They did try to kill all of them after all.

Still, he thinks he’s allowed to be thankful for the situation that led them to this, at least a little.


End file.
